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That moment of calm and silence… when the world is ok, and everything is as it should be… I’ve learned all too well over the last year how quickly those moments can be shattered with something as small as a thirty-two second phone call.
Thirty-two seconds was all I needed to know that the world might not be OK by sunrise.
I didn’t even need her to say anything….
I didn’t need her to say anything, because when I picked up the phone I could hear the tears being held back in silence, as the muffled yet choreographed voices in the background moved about…. knowing it was too late for anyone to be in their home, and that something was very wrong.
I remember hanging up and taking just a moment to stare at the “00:32” illuminated on my phone, knowing that was thirty two seconds too long to be standing there in shock…. my Dad was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital, and I was 695 miles away.
This is by far not the first moment of medical emergency that has come up with my Dad. He’s 84 years old and has lived life on his own terms, enjoying every moment. His heart has seen better days, and his are kidneys still trying to put up a fight, along with a slew of other concerns… but what shook me in that moment was the realization that we are likely getting closer to a time where I will be too far away.
I don’t even remember packing the car. The only thing I can even recall is telling my husband I was leaving in 10 minutes whether he was in the car or not. As I sat on the phone calling every airline realizing that it was faster to drive the 13 hours than it was to catch the next flight, I felt my heart start to race… fearful of what might happen in that 13 hours.
I’m thankful for my husband in those moments…. I’m thankful for him understanding that I do not need to be held, or picked up off the floor from a puddle of tears. For understanding that my most painful tears come out in silence and likely alone, and that despite my inability to put together an articulate thought, he knows exactly what I need in those moments.
I’ve made the drive home so many times I don’t even need GPS anymore. The visual markers are as familiar to me as passing my local grocery store… But it was so late, and I hadn’t slept more than a few hours a night since I don’t remember when; so without more than a few words my husband took the keys and drove……. as I watched out the window, anxiously awaiting the next update to come through.
By early morning we were pulling into the emergency parking lot. My Dad was in cardiac failure, his kidneys had stopped functioning as expected, and among other things the medication in his system had reached a toxic level while his heart rate was barely there. His eyes were glassed over and I couldn’t even recognize him.
…….He had deteriorated so much since the last time I saw him.
The trip home was filled with more conversations that I wish we didn’t need to have, fights I wish never happened, and more unavoidable stress than I would wish on anyone. After entirely too long in the hospital my Dad has thankfully been released to a physical therapy care center where they are working with him to gain enough strength to head home early next month…. and while I could literally sing from the mountain tops that he is OK for now…. I know it’s just for now… and one day it wont be “now”, and that all too close reality is terrifying.
This past year has been filled with moments like this…. From my husband being taken to the hospital with chest pains, to his Step-Father being hit by a distracted driver while riding his motorcycle, scares with my Dad, and our daughter. So here it is 2016…. I NEED YOU TO BE A GOOD ONE! I need you to have this thing with my Dad be the only thing that happens this year that makes me freeze in a moment… wondering if I just wasted a precious thirty-two seconds that could have been spent getting closer to where I need to be…………….
So 2016, I’ll say it again a little more softly… I really need you to be a good one.
